


Waking up

by SharpestRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two drabbles: 150, 200 words respectively. Waking up in Grimmauld place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking up

1\. Merry Christmas

  
"Merry Christmas."

"It's not Christmas until the sun comes up. Still Christmas Eve," Sirius protested into the pillow. Remus walked two fingers up his back slowly, scratching slightly where each bump of spine shaped the skin.

"The sun's been up for almost half an hour."

"I can't see it."

"That's because you've got your eyes closed, Padfoot."

Sirius couldn't help laughing at that. He stretched out lazily, yawning and smiling at once.

"Think Harry will like his gift?" Remus asked, now out of bed and hunting for his dressing gown. "I think I can smell breakfast, Molly must be up."

"Wait." Sirius leapt out of bed. "Can't let you leave yet. Look." He pointed up. Mistletoe.

"Now how did that get there?" Remus asked with a smile as he draped his arms across Sirius's shoulders.

"No idea, I'm sure."

"Mmm... Your morning breath is _awful_ , you know."

"Merry Christmas, Moony."  


* * *

  
2\. Every morning

Every morning.

Every morning Remus wakes up, and seconds later he remembers.

It will pass in time. He knows that - he has forgotten Sirius before, after all. It may be months, even years, before that horrifying second upon waking dulls and fades. It will in time, though, and perhaps then he'll remember how to breathe. But not yet.

The wolf, it seems, will never believe him. It sits behind his eyes, keening in sorrow but undaunted. After all, the human part of him has lied before, said that the Mate was gone forever when really all it took was waiting to bring him back. The wolf is patient, it has learnt the art of enduring the moon alone in expectation of, eventually, sharing it once more.

Sometimes, upon waking, Remus expects to simply die from the hurt of it. Death has never paid much attention to what love wants, though, and so every morning Remus wakes and is still alive.

Every morning Remus opens the curtains wide, and looks down at the world's colours and smells and shapes. And perhaps the wolf is right, it's only a matter of waiting. Remus no longer has the heart to contradict it.


End file.
